Tithe
by kdsch123
Summary: Supernatural remix of the ballad Tam Lin. Dean is kidnapped by the Queen of the Faeries, and Sam has to save him.
1. Chapter 1

Part I

_Janet tied her kirtle green  
a bit above her knee  
And she's gone to Carterhaugh  
as fast as go can she._

_She'd not pulled a double rose,  
a rose but only two  
When up then came young Tam Lin  
says "Lady pull no more"_

_"And why come you to Carterhaugh  
without command from me?"  
"I'll come and go" young Janet said  
"And ask no leave of thee"._

_Tam Lin – as sung by Fairport Convention –"Liege and Lief"_

Carterton, Connecticut

The world blazed in the autumnal glow of late October, as the black car rumbled down the main street of the small New England town. If anyone thought the appearance of such a car was strange, the people of the town didn't even turn their heads as the Impala glided through the village square, past the tall, white clapboard church and the impressive brick town hall, then past the glass fronted stores, cheerily decorated with pumpkins and black construction paper cutouts of witches and cats. The car passed over the old stone bridge and as it did, a loud and resounding pop echoed through the afternoon, causing the driver to pull over to the side of the bridge, so he could get out and inspect the damage. He was as much an anomaly in this sleepy town as his car, seemingly drawn in shades of charcoal grey, smudged around the edges a little against the crisp and vivid colors of the autumn afternoon. In short, the driver seemed to have stepped out of one reality into the one that the population of Carterton inhabited, and the oddest thing of all was that he didn't even notice. All he was concerned with were the thick black scraps that decorated the road behind his car, the burning stink of the overheated rubber filling the air.

"Great." Dean Winchester stared at the damage, shreds of rubber just barely hanging on to the insides of the tire. "Look at that. Poor baby." He patted the car's sleek black hood, crooning. "What happened, girl, huh?"

"It's a flat tire, Dean." Sam Winchester observed dryly, unfolding himself from the passenger seat to walk around to his brother's side of the car and inspect the ruined tire. "It's not exactly a disaster…well, Damn. Maybe it is…" Sam snickered a little. "Wow."

Dean shot his brother a dark glance and then smiled benevolently down at the car again. "It's okay, baby, Sammy just doesn't get it, does he?" He looked up at Sam again. "I can't just replace one tire, Sam. I'm going to put the spare on for now, but she needs to be balanced."

"Whatever." Sam shook his head, taking out his cell phone. Dean's attachment to the Impala was exasperating sometimes. "I'll find out where I can get two tires…" He dialed, and then frowned as he put the phone to his ear. "No signal. That's kind of strange, isn't it?" Sam looked around at the picturesque town, a bit skeptical. "Shouldn't there be a good signal here?"

Dean had walked around to the back of the car, popping the trunk for the jack and spare tire. "We're not exactly in the middle of a busy city, Sam." He took out what he needed and thumped the trunk shut again. "It's not Tomorrowland or anything." Dean snorted derisively at his brother's concern.

"Yeah, but it doesn't look like the town that cell towers forgot either." Sam frowned, shook his phone and then slid it into his pocket again. "I think I saw a tire place up the road. I'll walk up there to find out how long the wait will be."

"Good idea, Sammy." Dean nodded, setting the jack down next to the car. "See if you can find a place for us to stay, too." Sam started to walk away, and Dean called out again, "And, somewhere to eat…"

"Right." Sam nodded as he pushed his hands into his pockets, walking over the bridge toward the town's small commercial district. "Be right back."

Slightly annoyed that Dean hadn't managed to make his way back with the car, Sam walked back to the bridge, carrying a bag of food from the small diner he'd found near the garage. His irritation at Dean was replaced by concern at the sight of the Impala; still parked in exactly the same place, the jack and spare tire lying abandoned on the sidewalk next to the car. The car keys were neatly set on the hood of the car, with no sign of Dean anywhere.

"Dean!" Sam called out, letting the bag fall from his hand, his heart racing. "Dean!" From the top of the bridge, Sam looked down into the lazily flowing stream, and then spotted his brother under the wide, golden spread of an oak tree that still held most of it's leaves. Dean's eyes were closed, and seemed to be sleeping, of all things. "What the hell?" Sam loped down the bridge and around to the foot of the tree, kneeling beside Dean and shaking him. "Dean?"

Dean opened his eyes and blinked heavily. "Sammy? What's going on? Where is she?" He looked up at Sam and smiled. "Did you see her, man? Gorgeous…"

"She who?" Sam looked around, and spotted the only female near enough to qualify, an eighty year old woman walking her geriatric Pekinese along the leaf strewn path. "Her?" The dog chirped a bark in their direction and danced along beside his shuffling mistress, dismissing the Winchesters with a lofty sneeze.

"No." Dean sat up, rubbing his face, following his brother's eyes. "Oh, no freaking way. This was a tall chick, lots of dark hair, wild eyes and a funky accent," A sleepy grin crossed Dean's face and he chuckled. "Her accent was hot…"

"Oh-kay." Sam said, pulling Dean up with him as he stood. "How did you get down here?"

"What? I told you, that chick…" Dean looked around, trying to get his bearings. He spotted the car, still parked at the top of the bridge. "Oh man…" He shrugged off Sam's grip and stalked away from the tree. "It's all just like I left it…how could she have just left everything here?"

"Dean," Sam followed his brother, concerned. "Of course it's all just like you left it. I was only gone an hour, two tops."

"It was longer…." Dean said, inspecting the Impala for any new damage. "She told me that she'd take care of the car…"

"The mystery woman." Sam said flatly, as Dean knelt beside the car to replace the ruined tire with the spare. "If you were tired, you could have just said so, Dean. We did a lot of driving…"

"Dude, it happened." Dean snapped irritably as he loosened the lug nuts holding the tire onto the axle. "I don't know why. I was here fixing the tire, and then this chick shows up, took me to this huge old house at the end of this road for a party…" A bemused expression crossed his face as Dean looked away from his work and down the tree lined street. After a minute, Sam noticed that his brother suddenly seemed clearer, less distracted. "Maybe you're right about this place, Sammy." He looked up at Sam. "We should check it out."

"Yeah, maybe." Sam nodded, the tingle of precognition making the hair on the back of his neck crawl unpleasantly. "I'll make some calls and see what Bobby and Ellen might know about this place."

Dean nodded, pulling the old tire away from the car. "I'm going to take a walk around, see what I can see, maybe something from the dream will jump out at me. I can't shake the feeling that I've been here for a long time." He shoved the spare on to the bolts with a grunt and then shook his head. "A really long time."

"How long is really long?" Sam asked, and Dean shrugged as he finished his task. "A week, a month?"

"Longer than that." Dean replied, standing. "Like years."

Sam looked at his watch. "Well, our cell phones are useless here, so we'll have to meet up…" He looked up at his brother, who was staring down Main Street, as if he could see past the brilliant leaves and dark tree trunks. "Dean?"

"Yeah.." Dean nodded absently, listening to something that Sam couldn't begin to hear. "meet up…" He clapped his younger brother on the shoulder. "Later." Before Sam could say anything, the Impala's keys were in his hand, and Dean was walking down the street.

"You're giving me the car?" Sam spluttered, nearly speechless with shock. Dean turned and shrugged with a grin, walking backwards.

"Take care of her, Sammy. I trust you." Dean's careless, dreamy grin widened. "See you later."

Sam frowned and climbed into the driver's seat of the Impala. "This is all too weird…even for us." He muttered to himself, putting the car in gear. Sam drove down the bridge and turned, heading back toward the town Library. Maybe they'd have a pay phone there, Sam hoped, and the sooner he figured out what was happening to Dean, the better.

The history of Carterton wasn't really much different than that of many New England factory towns on the surface. Founded 1820 by a Scottish mill owner, the town itself had sprung up around the mill, like clapboard mushrooms, with the fieldstone manor house regally watching over all from the end of Main Street like a benevolent queen. Eventually, the factory closed down and what saved Carterton from the fate of it's Industrial Revolution contemporaries was it's idyllic setting, and timeless feeling, luring tourists from Boston and New York, thriving in spite of neither being close to the ocean or near enough to the mountains to make skiing possible. Instead, it was as if people were drawn to the little village 'just because', and as a result, the town's inn and two bed and breakfasts were always full. It was a kind of miracle, and the townspeople took their good fortune with the pleasantly dour attitude that it wouldn't last much longer. The last descendants of the Carter family also still lived in the town, although even they didn't own much more than their homes and cars, just like anyone else. Edward Carter, the mayor of Carterton, had returned to his hometown after going to college out of state, and had chosen his hometown to raise his children in. The ancestral home had fallen into desperate disrepair, and like his grandfather and father before him, Mayor Carter really had no interest in restoring or selling the old place. Instead, he reposted the warnings, made sure that trespassers were strongly warned for wandering the grounds and slept soundly at night, thinking that he'd managed to keep a new generation of the town's young folks from getting into the trouble in the old wreck of a house.

His own children, Jamie and Jenna, had also both returned to Carterton after college and graduate school – Jamie opening his own law practice in the fancy new office park near the highway and Jenna working on projects for her architecture degree, restoring one Queen Anne or saltbox farmhouse one at a time. Jenna's dream project, the restoration of the dilapidated Carter Hall, had been vetoed time and again by her otherwise doting father, both for political reasons and for personal ones that never extended past a tired, "Just stay away from the damn place, girl. Town's got enough history without messing about with that wreck." Her father's admonition would keep Jenna away briefly, but somehow, she'd always find herself standing at the wooden gate, looking through it at the expanse of grass and dreaming how beautiful the house could be in the right hands.

The afternoon had taken on it's golden light, leaning close to sunset, and the breeze had grown a bit chilly. Jenna Carter knotted the sleeves of her green sweater around her shoulders, and pulled her blonde hair up into a hasty pony tail as she got out of her Jeep, preparing a new attack on her father's resistance to her proposal. Stubbornness had pretty much been a genetic heritage, and Jenna wasn't one to squander resources if she could help it. She liked to walk the grounds of the house and think about what she could do with the place, if given the go ahead. All the same, Jenna could feel a coldness pouring from the house, as if forbidding her to even cross the threshold. It was the cumulative effect of the neglect the place had suffered, that much Jenna was sure of.

"You're just a house, you know, that's it." Jenna said, eyeing the heavy door of the house defiantly. "You belong to me…"

She walked under the rose covered trellises that sheltered the footpath to the front door of the old house. Some of the vines held late bloomers, and Jenna reached up to pick one of the fragrant, post frost roses for herself, a double bloom, kind of a prize, given the lateness of the season. The October roses were always Jenna's favorites, always seeming slightly sweeter than their summer counterparts. These, being an antique variety, were blood red and almost hypnotically fragrant. Jenna lifted the bloom to her nose to breathe in the scent, letting her mind drift to the dream of the restored house, grand and elegantly poised on the emerald grass…

"Hey, you shouldn't be picking those..." A male voice asked ripping her from her thoughts, and Jenna turned, clutching the rose tightly enough to feel the thorns cut into her fingers. "They don't belong to you." The young man who had spoken was looking at her with a very grim expression and he looked at the posted "NO TRESPASSING" sign significantly. "You got a reason to be here?" His tone was that of someone who didn't expect to be questioned, and Jenna felt herself bristle defiantly.

"It's you that doesn't belong here. The house belongs to my family." Jenna replied, walking toward the newcomer. "How can I help you?"

"You own this house?" The young man asked, genuinely surprised, "But I.."

"So, want to tell me why you're so interested in how and when I pick my own roses?" Jenna asked, and the young man blinked, and then looked at her again, as if seeing her for the first time. His whole demeanor seemed to change, and Jenna decided she liked this attitude even less than his earlier way.

"Look, baby, pick whatever you want when you want. This house," He eyed it cautiously. "My brother and I were interested in learning more about the town, and the house…name's Dean."

"No one in town likes to talk about this house…" Jenna replied with an amused smile, relaxing her grip on the flower a little. "I'm Jenna Carter. Don't think I've met anyone who is that interested in Carterton. You sure you don't want to head over to Mystic or New Haven? More to do in either of those places than here, that's for sure." Jenna tucked the rose behind her ear, more to free her hands from holding the flower anymore than anything else. "That, and quite frankly, you don't look like the type that usually are 'very interested' in Carterton. They usually like the town square and the antiques mall in the old factory."

"Yeah, well, shopping isn't exactly my thing." Dean said, his eyes still studying the stone walls of the house. "How long has this house been here?"

"I'm probably the only member of the Carter family that will talk to you about it. Carter Hall was built by my great, great, great grandfather back in 1820." Jenna said, feeling his eyes studying her as intently as he had the house. "My family hasn't lived in the place in years, probably almost as long as it has been standing. I think the house is just unloved." She turned to look over her shoulder at the glowering doorway. "Grandpa Hugh used to say that the place was haunted."

"Haunted by what?" Dean asked, and Jenna shrugged, uncomfortable with Dean's intense stare. He seemed to be intrigued by the double bloomed rose, as if he'd never seen one before. "Those roses always grow like that here?"

"I really don't know." She replied, reaching up to pull the flower from her hair, twirling it between her fingers again, watching Dean's eyes follow it. "They've been here as long as I can remember. My Grandfather was more concerned about keeping my brother and I away from the place. He'd say it was haunted, and then ask me to always keep an iron penny in my pocket."

Dean looked up at the roof again, and then nodded, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. He pressed two numbers and then swore under his breath. "Listen, Jenna, I hate to ask this, because it's going to sound all wrong, but would you come with me up to the town center? My brother should be at the library and I know he'd really want to talk to you."

"Sure." Jenna nodded, and walked with Dean, still talking about the house with him, never noticing the neighbors watching her. By dinnertime, the population of Carterton knew that there were new people in town, and by dessert that Jenna Carter had gone off with one of them without so much as a by your leave.

End of Part One…..


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

_"Oh tell to me Tam Lin" she said  
"Why came you here to dwell?"  
"The Queen of Fairies caught me  
when from my horse I fell_

_And at the end of seven years  
she pays a tithe to hell  
I so fair and full of flesh  
and fear'ed be myself_

_But tonight is Halloween  
and the fairy folk ride,  
Those that would their true love win  
at mile's cross they must hide._

_First let pass the horses black  
and then let pass the brown  
Quickly run to the white steed  
and pull the rider down..."_

Sam Winchester recognized four constants in life – and he'd never been wrong about them. One, Libraries, whether they were in a small town run by volunteers, or a huge, academic one like the one at Stanford, all smelled the same. It was a soothing combination of paper, dust and mold, blended together by the cool, recycled, air from the vents. The library in Carterton was no different. Sam sat at a long, highly varnished table, books of carefully preserved news articles from the local paper open before him. Each turned page stirred that comforting scent, drawing Sam more deeply into the work. The second constant was that Dean never purposefully chose to do this part of the hunt – the book work. Sometimes, Sam resented his brother's more active approach to hunting, although, in fairness, Dean managed to come out on the other side with a few bruises to show for it, whether he'd walked into a hunt armed with properly done research or not. The third constant was that every town, every single one, had some myth, secret or legend attached to it that could be counted on to awaken, stir or otherwise be activated to cause trouble among the townspeople. It didn't matter where Sam and Dean found themselves, or if the problem was ultimately caused by the growing power of the demons that had been released from Hell last summer. The fourth constant, Sam thought with a sigh as Dean and a slender blonde entered the library, was that his older brother would invariably find some attractive female to attempt to seduce. It was as if the challenge of destroying whatever troublemaking entity they were up against wasn't enough, Dean needed the additional thrill of sexual conquest. Dean's companion this time was indeed pretty, definitely not as flashy as the girls Dean preferred usually. In fact, she reminded Sam of the girls he'd known at Stanford, and based on the expression on her face, being latest in the line of Dean's one night stands was the last thing on her mind. Her hands were pushed into the pockets of her sweater, keeping up with Dean's swaggering stride confidently. Sam liked her immediately.

"Hey." Dean waved, looking around the library as he leaned over the table between himself and his brother. "Anything?"

Sam rubbed his eyes. "Maybe. There've been disappearances. Young men, all in their mid-twenties. Every seven years, on Halloween." He looked up at Dean's companion and extended a hand. "I'm Sam."

"Jenna." She replied, shaking Sam's hand firmly, making comfortably making eye contact. "What does all this have to do with my house?"

Dean nodded, cutting Jenna off with a wave of his hand. "Tomorrow is Halloween, Sammy. Where do they disappear to? One guy every seven years takes off, goes to the big city, follows some chick to college and doesn't look back. Doesn't really sound like our thing…"

"I really can't say." Sam sighed. "I'm still looking, but right now, I can tell you that they don't go off to the big city." He tapped a stack of newspapers. "Vanish without a trace as near as I can tell. Jenna, you've lived here your whole life, surely one of these names has to be familiar." Sam handed her the list of names he'd compiled. "I know some of these go back to before any of us were born but…"

Jenna frowned down at the paper. "Tim Langston. I knew him…all the girls in town did." She slid into the seat across from Sam. "He was kind of a local sports hero. Last time anyone have seen him was the homecoming game seven years ago." Jenna looked up at Sam again. "People come and go all the time, though. That Tim hasn't been back here isn't all that mysterious, is it?" 

"I've run his name through every database I can think of." Sam replied, shaking his head. "Unless he's in witness protection, I can't find him anywhere. You said he was back for the homecoming game. Was the game on Halloween that year?"

"Yes, it was, as a matter of fact. The season went late because of bad weather that fall. Too much rain…" Jenna said, her voice drifting as she remembered. "You don't seriously think he's connected to all of this. These other names, all from leading families in town, all except…." The list crumpled slightly in her hands. "My brother isn't on this list. None of the Carters are."

"That's a lucky thing, right?" Dean asked, sinking into the seat at the end of the long table. "Your family doesn't have to look at the empty place at the table and wonder." He looked from Sam to Jenna, waiting for a response. "Anyone? Don't mind me or anything, I'm just…"

"Think it's connected? The last place any of the men that disappeared were seen was in front of that big old house, Carter Hall. " Sam took the list back from Jenna, completely ignoring Dean. "There has to be a reason and we should go back over to the house and check things out. Maybe your brother wasn't old enough, or…." Sam's attention was diverted across the room. Jenna and Dean turned to watch the progress of a tall, striking, dark haired woman as she glided majestically through the library. Dean's eyes grew wide and he stood as she passed them, inhaling deeply as the soft fragrance that followed her drifted over their table, a scent that reminded Jenna of the autumn roses at Carter Hall. The woman's glance fell on Dean thoughtfully, and then floated away like a leaf caught on an afternoon breeze. Sam cleared his throat and blinked, as if waking up from a long nap. "Who is that?"

"That?" Jenna asked, an eyebrow raised incredulously over one eye. "That was Rhea Fayden." She turned to look at Dean, who was still staring in the direction the tall woman had disappeared in, as if she'd reappear at any moment, his mouth open. Jenna shook her head and reached over to push Dean's jaw shut. "Please…like you've never seen a woman before." Dean allowed his mouth to close, his eyes not leaving the door. Jenna pulled her hand away from Dean's chin, wiping her fingers on the sleeve of her sweater idly. "Ugh…men."

Sam recovered first, looking down at the clippings on the table in front of him for a moment before searching through it as the mysterious woman's name sunk in. "Rhea Fayden…she's an artist?" He pulled a photocopied article from the stack and read it quickly before passing it to Jenna. "That her?"

"Yes." Jenna took the page and nodded. "Her family has been here in town for as long as there's been a Carterton." She looked at Sam and then at Dean again. "I don't know why you guys reacted that way. She's imposing, but wow…is he always like that?"

"Dean?" Sam reached out and tapped his brother roughly. "You here?"

"Yeah, yeah…" Dean nodded, shuddering a little as he came back to himself. "I'm with you. Sammy…" Dean leaned forward. "That's the chick I saw in my dream…"

"You're sure?" Sam asked, and Dean nodded solemnly as Jenna frowned at them.

"Dude." Dean raised his eyebrows. "How could I forget her?" Sam nodded, turning his attention back to a large, leather bound book he was leafing through. Turning to Jenna, Dean sat back, folding his arms over his chest. "She make everyone do that?"

"Drool and act like fish?" Jenna smiled waspishly and Dean smirked. "Most men, but some less than others. It's almost like she can turn it on or off. "

"Or there's something about them that keeps whatever mojo she has from working on them." Dean replied, wiggling his fingers in the air. "Because she's got some kind of Voodoo that she do…"

"Possible, I guess, but why would you dream about her when you've never seen Rhea before today?" Jenna's response was quick and crisp. "or Carterton, for that matter."

"I don't know." Dean's smile was cocky. "I'm thinking it's the whole voodoo thing.." He leaned back in the chair, balancing it on the back two legs. "Plus, women can't resist me…"

"If that's not the height of arrogance, I just don't know what it is.." Jenna began, fixing Dean with a harsh glare. "What you need to…"

"What we need to find out is why Rhea can do that," Sam interrupted smoothly, not looking up from the book he was reading. "And, if that why matches up with the why and what about the guy from this town that goes missing every seven years." He shook his head and looked at his brother. "Try and restrain yourself, Dean."

"I'll do what I can to help." Jenna nodded, taking the list of names from Sam. "I can probably get you in to talk to most of the families that has a missing person. Being the mayor's daughter is helpful sometimes."

Sam smiled. "That would be great. Having your help on this will make things easier."

Rhea Fayden walked down the nearly empty sidewalk, feeling the heavy fatigue of the autumn afternoon. People moved out of her path, some greeting her, and others politely ignoring her. Making herself almost invisible had it's advantages, and Rhea availed herself of any advantage she could, when the need arose, appearing as no more than an attractive female of indeterminate age, theatrically dressed in rusty layers that mimicked the leaves that still clung to the trees, a wild tumble of dark hair falling around her slender shoulders. Her natural state would strike most of the town dumb with awe, though, and Rhea had learned over the years that humans did not welcome faerie kind as warmly as they could. Considering her choice, a newcomer to town this time, a beautiful male with a trace of wildness about him, Rhea let herself feel a bit easier about the ceremony to come. There could be no complaints from the gatekeepers about this year's tithe. A rare specimen that would be a worthy offering in exchange for seven more years of walking among the mortals, breathing the air, instead of the dank air of the Underworld. Rhiannon, Queen of the Fae deserved no eternal entombment, and she could not consign what was left of her court to damnation either.

Everywhere, it was clear that Nature herself was preparing for the invisibility of winter, and Rhea stifled a broad yawn. There would be time for sleeping once the tithe was paid, a brief but well deserved rest. It was a tiring time, even when not a payment year. September through November was always fatiguing, but the seventh cycle before the tithe was due was even more so. The last surge of Earth's fertility, that push after harvest time, took a great deal out of Rhea. More frustratingly still, this years offering was just out of reach. The necessary charm to draw him to her would not work as well with his brother and the Carter girl near by. The agreement between Rhea and the head of the Carter family was as binding as the tithe payment itself. To violate

either agreement would cause a ripple of power that would backlash on the small Faerie community that had managed to exist far from the mist shrouded mountains of Scotland. Carterton had become home, and the colony of fae folk had thrived on the fringe of the town, existing as artisans, writers and musicians, which allowed the townspeople to overlook their unusual ways.

Up the street, a little cluster of courtiers waited, their faces as pale and fatigued as her own. Rhea could feel their worry pouring from them, concern about leaving a place they had all come to think of as home. The briefest of bows and barest genuflections were given when she reached them, and the Faerie Queen wondered when it was her kind had adopted the casual ways of their mortal neighbors, along with their dull appearance.

"Majesty, where is the offering?" asked the bravest of them, unable to restrain themselves. The speaker was a young one, a female that Rhea remembered being born. A young woman now, ebony hair pulled back from her face in a smooth sweep, the child's grey eyes were wide and innocent. Rhea brushed gentle fingertips across the soft white cheek of the young one. _Aila_. That was her name, and Rhea smiled at her softly.

"He will be along shortly. His companions were ever near. The Carter girl knows me, and the ward over her kept me from leading him here. You must help me, child. Come." Rhea took Aila's hand and led her into the house, the house built from their sacred stones, stones taken from the borders of their land by the thoughtless Carter. The entrance hall was wide and vaulted and in the center of it sat a gleaming oak table, made from a fallen tree in a grove Rhea had only walked in as a child. Resting on the table's mirror smooth surface was a rough hewn crystal bowl, large enough to bathe a small child in, filled with water. The sickle shaped knife of the Goddess, more ancient than any of them could fathom, sat next to the bowl, it's silver blade shining. Aila stared at the bowl and knife, and then up at Rhea with an expression of complete loyalty and trust. The maiden's purity would only strengthen the summoning spell, Rhea thought to herself, trying to remember a time that she herself had ever been so young.

"What is your wish, Majesty?" The young one asked, and the Faerie Queen shook away the glamour that kept her true appearance hidden. Around her, the others of her court did the same, and finally, Aila herself. The air shimmered with power, rising from the foundation of the house itself.

"Draw him here." Rhea said, her voice echoing through the vaulted room, consonants heavy with the weight of time. "Bring the offering to us to be prepared."

"Yes, my Queen." Aila picked up the elaborate ceremonial knife, pressing the edge of the curved blade into the palm of her hand. Blood, vividly red, slightly luminous fell into the clear water, swirling of it's own volition until the water glowed. "Show me the offering." The surface of the water shifted, until the image of Dean Winchester was visible, walking alone toward his car. The faerie court sighed, and Rhea leaned forward, dropping one long, white finger into the shimmering red tinged water.

"Come to me…" She stirred the water gently, watching as Dean stumbled on the sidewalk, catching himself against the side of the Impala. "Do not resist…." Another drop of Aila's blood fell into the bowl, swirling again through the water. Rhiannon smiled, watching as her choice looked up, hearing her voice. "Yes, pretty…you are mine…." The image of Dean nodded, leaving his keys on the black hood of the car and walked down the street toward Carter Hall.

"Shit." Sam spat, snatching the Impala's keys from the hood of the car. "Dean!" He turned, scanning the street as Jenna Carter appeared from the library, talking on her cell phone. Seeing Sam standing there, Jenna ended her call and went to him.

"What's wrong?" She asked, looking up at Sam quizzically. "Mrs. Langston said she'd be glad to talk to us about Tim, but we have to…"

"Jenna, Dean's gone." Sam told her quickly. "Left the car keys here and vanished."

"Where would he go?" Jenna asked, shaking her head. "I'm the only person you both know here in town."

"Maybe not the only one." Sam nodded, and then looked down the street. "How far is Carter Hall from here?"

"Not far at all. Just down at the end of Main Street." Jenna replied. "Think that's where he was headed?" The air around them grew colder, the wind whipping leaves and sand in the cruel way October could sometimes, making Jenna shudder a little. "I'll go with you."

"It's worth a shot." Sam closed his hands around the car keys. "Come on.."

End Part 2


End file.
